


Avelyn and the Dragons

by LadySnowhawk



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociative Amnesia, Dracophobia, Eventual Smut, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, I love fluff, I've Never Done This Before Help?, Love, Love Confessions, Multi, Romance, Slow Burn, probably idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySnowhawk/pseuds/LadySnowhawk
Summary: Avelyn is just your typical Imperial amnesiac wandering Skyrim, but fate really seems to have it in for her when a chance encounter as she struggles to remember her past and her former identity reveals her to be the Last Dragonborn, destined to destroy the evil dragon Alduin and all other dragons in the land.There's only one problem: she's terrified of them.---'Why is this happening? Am I ever going to remember it? Is it going to be too late by the time I do?'





	1. What's in a Surname?

**Author's Note:**

> All characters apart from Avelyn are Bethesda's. I've never done this before, so any constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. That said, hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Oh and PS first chapter or so will probably just be about Avelyn and establishing her story. No other peeps yet :3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Avelyn? Or rather, who was Avelyn?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning is a flashforward :)

_He stops and turns round one last time in front of the door. As if saying, ‘this is your last chance to take back what you said’. She doesn’t look him in the eye, but she just has this feeling, just **knows** that he’s crying, eyes red and cheeks blushed. Or about to, at least. She’d rather not look and find out which, staring intensely at the fire instead._

_‘Are you really going to go through with this, Avelyn?’ he says. He doesn’t hide the defeated, disgusted tone in his voice._

_‘Yes.’_

_She wants to get up from her seat, run towards him, force herself in front of the door, tell him that of course she wouldn’t do it, it was insane, it was madness-and also would be one of the greatest crimes ever recorded in all of Tamriel._

_‘Is there nothing I can do to stop you?’_

_‘No.’_

_She wants him to stop her. But he can’t. There’s nothing he could do now. She knew that if she gave in to her emotions, even for a second, they’d both be dead in a heartbeat._

When did it come down to this?

_‘…’_

_‘…Then I’ll be leaving then.’ He turns back to face the door._

_‘Alright.’_

_He had to go. He had to. Avelyn forces herself to maintain her cool, indifferent posture, pushes back the tears bubbling in her eyes, keeps her voice steady, even though on the inside she just wants to scream. Scream how she had no choice…_

_No choice…_

_But to let him go._

_The door slams shut, and in the blink of a moment, he’s gone._

~~~  
_Last Seed, 4E 200_

The girl wakes up with a terrible ache in her head, as if someone was beating away at her brain with a drum. The world looks fuzzy and she raises her hands upon spotting the bright light hanging atop the grey stone room. After a pause to allow her eyes to adjust, she inspects her hands.

She doesn’t recognise them.

Taking in deep breaths, she tries to calm herself down as she sits on the edge of the cold single bed, turning the-her-hands over and back again. _It’s fine. It’ll come back to me,_ she thinks as she carefully picks up the clothes neatly placed on the ground beside her repose-upon spreading out the clothes she is rather dismayed to find more than few large holes in it. The rats had obviously been at it. She picks up a scrap of paper left on top of the rags, which simply says: _‘For Avelyn. –Your dear friend, M.’_

 _So I guess that answers the name issue,_ she thinks dryly, rubbing her head. _I still have no idea where I am though. Or_ who _I am._

Putting on the clothes and a pair of worn shoes on the side, she realises that she hasn’t even had a chance to look at herself yet. She also realises there is no one else in the room, which contains six other identical beds to hers. Although there is no one around, there are signs that they have been recently occupied. Feeling a sudden wash of uneasiness pass over her, she clambers to her feet unsteadily and walks over to a nearby chest. Hoisting it open hopefully, she finds a small bag of gold pieces and an iron sword. 

That’s it.

Tentatively picking up the sword, she holds it in her hands. She has a faint recollection of using swords, but is irritated at the fact that she can’t quite remember how to use them. It was as if something in her brain was blocking the answer, just out of reach, and with it her entire memory of who she was. She jabs it through the air, hoping to get a sense or just something that could help her remember, and nearly stabs her toe in the process. Avelyn decides it’s best to just leave the sword be for the moment, and carefully sheathes it by her side, along with the gold purse. 

Now to figure out where she was.

As quietly as possible, she pushes the large double doors at the back of the room, bracing herself as the cool wind blows into the room, threatening to extinguish the lit candles on the ceiling. Outside, the moon seemed ethereal, cloaked in a fine mist which only surrounded the moon during the late summer. So that meant it could only be Last Seed. Grabbing a random cloak hanging on the wall and a lantern hanging next to it, Avelyn stepped out into the courtyard, hoping to find a horse or something that could get her away from this place.

She immediately regretted having ever done so. 

As if bound by some terrible magic, the skeletons patrolling the walls of the fort were drawn to the sudden movement at the door, and immediately caught sight of Avelyn. These purple-tinged minions then alerted their masters of the intruder, who turned instantly hostile before she had a chance to explain herself. Not like there was much she could talk about. 

She had little time to react as the skeletons drew up their bows, giving off an ominous creaking noise as their bones broke as they move, only kept together by the power of the necromancers controlling them. She ran as fast as she could without falling over (which wasn’t very fast given her state) towards what looked like the stables, where-

 _Yes!_ There was a horse already tacked up and ready to go. Now, if only she could remember how to ride a horse-

Avelyn’s legs went numb as the horse turned to face her. At first, nothing appeared out of the normal. It wasn’t dead, for starters.

But the eyes. They were glassy, with no pupils. And the horse had turned its head too quickly. As if-as if it knew-

As if it knew she was going to be there already.

Stifling a scream, she scrambled to turn the other way as the horse shook its mane and started biting on its leash which kept it rooted in the stable. She heard an arrow whizz past her and thanked the gods-Shorne? Shor? ( _God, I can’t even remember that! What’s wrong with me?_ ) for her sorry luck as she ran through the battlements and past the gate, necromancers shouting in her wake. At one point she nearly ran headfirst into a skeleton, and she was sure she would have fainted from just the sight of one alone.  


Seeing vague shapes that resembled stones in a road, she blindly turned left and blasted down the path as fast as she could. Her fear of death and becoming a necromancer’s plaything overrides her rising panic as she realises that she still recognises nothing in her surroundings. _Soon. It’ll come back to me, soon…_

In the distance, she heard a sudden _crack!_ , the sound of timber breaking, and the galloping of hooves. From afar, they sounded like the chimes of death, and Avelyn ran even faster, so terrified she didn’t dare look back at the possessed horse. Was it alive? Was it dead? It didn’t matter. She needed to leave.

Avelyn didn’t know how far she went-it seemed like leagues, but the moon hardly moved from its position, with no sight of dawn nearing. No matter how fast she ran, it seemed like the horses’ hooves were never far behind. 

The stony path turned onto a straight than ran for leagues and leagues. She would never be able to escape in such open view. Panicking, she clambered over to the side of the road, behind a small raise in the land covered with dense brushes and grass. Avelyn clasped her hands to her mouth as the possessed horse galloped near, before coming to a halt. She closed her eyes, praying desperately to whatever gods were out there for her safety as the horse sniffed the air, slowly trotting round towards her hiding spot. _Oh God oh God oh God-_

There was silence, for a second.

Then, an uproarious whinny as the horse caught sight of her. Avelyn bent her elbows inwards to cover her face, screaming at the top of her lungs and wishing it would be enough to scare the horse away as it raced towards her, about to trample her and-

The world seemed to stop all at once. The humming of torchbugs, and the faint whispering of the wind, even the possessed horse’s breath all stopped. Avelyn still didn’t dare to open her eyes. Seconds passed.

Then, she heard the sound of hooves-no longer rushed and forceful, breaking the earth beneath them with each impact, but gentler with no sense of purpose, slowly trotting away the way it came. The torchbugs started again as well, but even they sounded somehow more peaceful then their insistent buzzing beforehand. 

After a few more seconds she finally summoned up the courage to open her eyes. For sure, the horse that had moments before nearly ran her over was now walking away as if nothing had ever happened. She almost thought to run and check, but decided that was a stupid idea. The thing that surprised her most was the mysterious green aura that hung over it as it walked. Looking round for the torchbugs, she found the same mysterious aura hanging around them, although significantly smaller on them. What just happened? Whatever it was, she didn’t want to hang around the horse any longer. Avelyn wearily rose to her feet, suddenly feeling the full brunt of her exhaustion from running all night. When was the last time she ate or drank? The panic of getting away had made forget the gnawing hunger that seeped into her bones, and her mouth was dry. Maybe it had something to do with the scream from earlier…

She plodded on despondently down the straight, turning left where the terrain started to become steeper, snow starting to fall in soft plumes. Although she recognised it, she had a sense that, even with her lost memory, she had never seen snow before. She definitely hadn’t imagined it to be this cold, wrapping her thin cloak around her and wishing she had looked for proper clothes before escaping the warmth of the fort.

After about an hour of walking, with the road only becoming more inhospitable with the snow falling thicker and thicker, Avelyn saw little point in walking any further, with still no sign of any human life. She sat down on a felled log, partially protected from the onslaught of snow by the standing trees in the forest, and discovered a small puddle formed from snowmelt lying in front of her. 

Gently, she took off her cloak’s hood, uncovering her dishevelled hair. Not quite knowing what to expect, she slowly knelt down beside the puddle and looked down.  
The face of a stranger stared back at her. She was young, she got that much-probably not even twenty yet, practically a child. There were no lines on her face, although it was dirty with mud, as well as having bags under her eyes, probably from her lack of sleep. Snow lay in a thin layer atop her platinum blonde hair, which was probably naturally wavy, though it was so dishevelled right now that she couldn’t quite be certain in the dim light.  
But her eyes.

Her eyes were purple, a deep, bright violet. When she stared deep into them, they seemed to go on forever, fathomlessly. Something was hidden in those eyes, some hidden power she couldn’t see or reach. She felt like she should recognise them, and yet she had no recollection of ever seeing anything like it. She couldn’t even recognise who she was after seeing her own reflection. 

Avelyn had a sudden sense of emptiness. She had no idea who she was, could remember nothing but what had just happened after she had woken up and remembered basic things like some God’s names and the White-Gold Concordat that had been signed a few years before she was born, but couldn’t remember how she felt about them, and what religion she aligned herself with, if anyone at all. Rumours of a civil war flicked through her mind, but she just couldn’t remember anything about it. _Why is this happening to me? Am I ever going to remember? Why do I have no clue of who I am?_ She continued to kneel there, staring at the reflection of a person she didn’t know. She felt tears roll down her cheeks, streaks of heat in the chilling cold.

_Why me?_

_Why did it have to be me?_

Who is Avelyn? Certainly not the person staring down at the reflection currently. That Avelyn had hopes, dreams and relationships with people this Avelyn wouldn’t blink twice at. Memories of the past and plans for the future. She wasn’t dazed and confused, barely even recognising themselves. At that point in time, she had never felt more lost and alone. She would never return to her former self, and thus, she would never regain her former memories. She’d just be this shell of a person, hiding under the persona of Avelyn. If Avelyn was even her real name-it’s not like she would have actually remembered it if not for the note next to the clothes.

Which reminded her… _Your dear friend, M_. Brushing back her tears angrily, she tried to focus, picturing someone dear to her with the letter ‘M’ in their name. Was it a relative? A sister, brother? A friend she didn’t remember? Her parents maybe? For some reason she didn’t even have the faintest recollection of her parents. Maybe she was an orphan. Yet no matter how hard she tried, nothing came to mind. Exhausted and starved, sleep quickly overtook her senses, and she collapsed by the side of the puddle, with still no sense of her who she could be.

~~~  
Not much later, a light, at first dim, then brighter, flickers into view, startling Avelyn awake. ‘Avel-!’

‘Who are you?’ She realised how much she’d missed humanity in the one night she could remember. Dawn was rising over the treetops, a pale orange sky beckoning on the horizon. 

The person rushes into view, carrying a torch. He’s wearing all black, making him hard to spot in the pale light, with mid-length reddy-brown hair reaching his neck. His face is a picture of infinite worry and suddenly, Avelyn has the sense that she has met this person before. ‘Ave-Are you alright?’ he cries, running down beside her and raising her up to a sitting position. He grabs her hand, not unkindly. ‘You’re freezing,’ he says.

‘How do you know my name?’

‘I-No, I was saying are you alright? Damn, if you’re hearing things then this must be-‘

‘No, I didn’t hear you wrong. I just thought you were saying Avelyn.’ His face looks surprised for a second, as if hearing her talk for the first time.

‘That’s my name.’ she says flatly. 

The man seems to recover at that, shaking his head, before giving a wry grin. ‘Just Avelyn? No surname or anything?’ He’s still smiling, but the emptiness she felt before runs up and down her spine again, giving her shivers.

‘I-I don’t know it.’ He stares at her as if she had spoken another language. Embarrassed, she stutters out, ‘I-I can’t remember. I just woke up in this castle somewhere down the road, and there were necromancers outside, and-and possessed horses and skeletons and I just ra-'

‘Woah woah woah, I’m going to stop you right there, lass. A fort with necromancers just down the road? How did you end up in Fort Snowhawk, of all places?’ There’s an underlying, knowing tone in his voice.

‘Where?’

‘Fort Snowhawk? Haven’t you heard of it? Famous for being a decrepit ruin of a fort. Some Empress or fancy lady used to reside down a few centuries ago, but little remains save a few necromancers as you mentioned. What were you doing there? Nobody just ends up in Fort Snowhawk of their own will.’

 _Fort Snowhawk_. She had no memory of anything with that name…but somehow it felt important. Thankfully a sudden rumble from her stomach reminded her of her hunger and made sure she didn’t have to come up with a reply just yet.

‘But what am I doing, meeting a lass out in the forest and all I do is pile her with questions? Let’s get you to Morthal, lil’ ‘Lady Snowhawk’,’ picking her up and carrying her in his arms before she has time to react or even realise what’s going on. Her limbs feel numb. The man places one of his hands gently on her forehead, before inhaling suddenly. ‘You’re coming down with a fever, lass. Any longer out here and you might have…’ His words die off. She waves the issue away with a flick of her hand. She doesn’t really care anymore, at this point.

‘It doesn’t matter…What’s your name, ranger?’

Another smile. It seems more forced this time. ‘I’m more of a thief by nature, lass-not ironically speaking. And my name?’ There’s a pause. He looks at her intensely for a few moments, as if waiting for something, but when there’s no response, he simply says,

‘The name’s Brynjolf. Pleasure making your acquaintance, Lady Snowhawk.’

Snowhawk. _It has a nice ring to it_ , she thought, giving in to the temptation of sleep. On the horizon, the first stray rays of light strike through the trees, as the start of a new day begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to be taking notes from this description from an anonymous person of how amnesia feels https://www.quora.com/What-does-it-feel-like-to-have-had-amnesia . Avelyn's suffering from dissociative and source amnesia. Dissociative amnesia means that you not only forget your past but also your identity (hence she does not recognise herself when she looks in the reflection. Reminders of that past identity will be meaningless, and their memory only returns very slowly over time, and even then the event that triggered it may never be remembered...source amnesia is where you remember certain information, but you don't remember how you got it, hence Avelyn remembers the White-Gold Concordat but not what it means or her feelings on it. I got the idea of amnesia from the fact that you start the game with no clue who you are (this is a year before the events of Skyrim, patience children :) )
> 
> I've never done this before, so any constructive criticism would be appreciated. I also have no clue in which person to write this in aefuewfhehewfhwewe. I know who's going to be the final love interest for Avelyn, but I think I'll add bonus parts for the other two as an alternative if you prefer them (or just love them all equally as I do :3)
> 
> ~LS


	2. The Rising Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a new day comes new prospects...  
> \---  
>  _'Can we start over?_  
>  Can we be strangers again?  
> Let me introduce myself  
> We can laugh and talk  
> And you can relearn what I already know  
> And come up with new jokes and stories  
> And create new memories  
> And give each other  
> A second chance.' 
> 
> [Edited] e.l

By the time she managed to wake up, several days had passed. Like someone who has just stumbled out of the darkness and is blinded by the light, Avelyn raised her arms to her eyes as the brilliant rays shone into the small room via a little window. Having raised them to her face she was once again unfortunately reminded of the predicament she was in, turning them over in the light as if she had never seen them before. 

Looking round, she studied her surroundings. She was sitting in a small, wooden bed covered with furs and the like in a small wooden cabin. The contents were pretty simple-two chairs encompassing a rather despondent-looking old table, a few cupboards here and there, and a chest in the corner opposite the beds. Slipping out of the sheets, she realised she was no longer wearing her tattered rags, but a rather oversized shirt. Standing up as tall as she could it still came down to her knees, and the sleeves dangled beneath her like some sort of mage’s cape. The ghost of a smile touched her lips as she looked at herself in the mirror in her bedraggled state. _What a mess._

On top of a drawer nearby laid a clean blue dress that actually didn’t have holes in it from pesky rats or skeevers. Gratefully putting them on, she took another look in the mirror after brushing back her hair with her hands. From a distance, she looked mildly normal. She reached at the back and was happy to find a hood which she quickly pulled on to conceal her pale, sleep-deprived face.

She wriggled her toes as she stood barefoot on the cold wooden floor, and gently pushed back the loose strands of hair covering her face, brushing it down before taking a deep breath, and opening the front door. 

She was met by the soft, gentle noise of waves and birdsong and for a second, she saw in her mind the flash of a memory…

_The sound of the sea roars in her ears like a siren song. The screams of a child echo into the night._

_‘Please, you must take them. It is not safe for them here.’ The voice sounds firm, but desperate._

_‘I’ve told you folks before, the ship’s not safe to be sailing anywhere anytime soon. And besides, I’m not going to risk my life carrying elves to safety in this day and age. What would you take me for? A criminal? You’re lucky I’m not turning you into the rebels right now, you noble scum. Now begone, before anyone sees us.’ The wind howls into the night as the footsteps recede, growing distant. The child begins to cry louder, now._

_‘Please sir, I beg you, if not for the money then for the children. They’re only little, they’re not to blame, they’re-‘_

_‘They’re **elves**. Look at the ears! Yes, they might pass for Imperials at first…but who ever saw a human with purple eyes!’_

_‘They have Imperial blood! I can prove it! Please, just get them out of the city. This is everything we have left…I beg of you...’_

A sudden gust of wind nearly sweeps Avelyn off her feet as the rest of the memory fades away, jolting her back into reality. The little town looked a little grimmer, a little colder than it did a few seconds ago. The sun shining down on the rooftops was blinding. 

Almost unconsciously, Avelyn walked towards the source of the sound of the water and kneeling down in front of the clear surface of the water, pulled her hair back off her face…  
To reveal two, gently pointed ears protruding from the side of her head. Hardly believing her eyes, she gently touched the tips to find they were very real. _By the Divines, what even am I…_

‘I see you’re not one for a slow, painful recovery then,’ a voice remarked from her left, startling her again as she stumbled ungracefully to her feet. It was Brynjolf, dressed in much more casual attire and with a woodcutter’s axe slung into his belt. Now finally seeing him in proper daylight and in normal clothing, she finds him less imposing than she first thought, although definitely still a force to be reckoned with should it ever come down to it…  
~~~  
‘So you don’t remember anything? Anything at all?’ Avelyn took another gulp of the concoction Brynjolf had made her out of random herbs and ingredients as she shook her head. They were sitting at the small worn table in his cabin. There were a few blue mountain flowers floating around on the oily surface of the liquid, as well as a few other things she’d rather not look too closely at to find out what they were…

Brynjolf sighed. ‘Well then, as far as I can tell lass, you’re a complete mystery. Both to yourself and the rest of us,’ he added with a quiet chuckle. 

‘But I’m a Bosmer, right?’ 

‘An _Altmer_ , lass, you’re getting mixed up between your high elves and wood elves, and that’s not a mistake you want to keep on making, too. Just imagine if the Thalmor got their hands on you, they’d be absolutely fur-‘

‘Who are the Thalmor?’ Avelyn asked, innocently enough. _Talos help me,_ he thought. ‘The War? The Civil War that’s raging right now in Skyrim?’

‘…the Thalmor War?’ Brynjolf couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I guess you could call it that. The Imperials are really just puppets to the Thalmor-not that they have a choice in the matter after the Concordat, anyways…’ He died off as he noticed Avelyn’s confused expression. 

‘…but that’s all for another day. For now, why don’t I show you around, if you’re able enough to walk. Most people don’t get up that quickly from a fever, you know-if at all. You’re lucky to be alive.’ He got up to go to the door, beckoning for Avelyn to do the same.

When he heard nothing happen, he turned around.

‘Am I?’ She said, not looking up. The smile faded from his face as he stared back. From a distance, her small figure cut a sorry picture-hunched over, looking into the fathomless depths of the potion on the table, eyes forlorn. She looked confused, upset, alone. Although she was surrounded by a town full of people, she might as well have been the only person living in Skyrim for all the good anyone could do her. _She really doesn’t remember anything, does she?_ he thought despairingly. 

Suddenly, she turned to look at him. Her purple eyes glimmered in the faint light, like two gems. ‘You didn’t answer my question before, Brynjolf. Am I an Altmer?’ Two piercing sparkles of purple stared at him, and for a moment he felt like she could see through his soul. 

‘…Not exactly, lass. It’s true you have elf ears, and no man I’ve ever seen had purple eyes, but your features are distinctly Imperial.’ He turned towards the door, opening it. 

‘You’re most likely a Nibenesian, which would explain the elfish qualities.’ As he went through the door, he stopped and added,

‘You could of course, be a half-breed. But they’re hard to find, especially in this day and age, so it’s highly unlikely.’ 

Then he stepped outside and disappeared from Avelyn’s view.  
~~~  
Even though the day was bright, the mood had been somewhat dampened by Avelyn’s not overly joyful response earlier in the day. Still, Brynjolf tried to rouse her sunken spirits as he led her through the town.

‘This is Morthal, lass. Just part of one of the nine holds in Skyrim. Maybe there’s not much to see or do, but the people are kind enough as can be expected these days-and got a good eye for business too, if you catch my meaning.’ Avelyn’s expression told him she had anything but understood what he meant; he also noticed that she was repeating the expression she had worn last time, with one eyebrow furrowed and her mouth slightly agape in half wonder. It had a very quizzical, bewildered look about it that only someone completely ignorant or wholly innocent could wear. Brynjolf had a feeling it was the latter. As they walked down the main street they saw two children go rushing down, laughing as they went. It was a rare spark of happiness in this otherwise quiet, cold town. 

One of the two, the girl, stopped as she caught sight of Brynjolf and ran back, pulling out something from her pockets as she went. ‘Mister Brynjolf! I got the apple for you, just like I promised!’ ‘Good girl!’ he said, beaming as the child dropped a plump red apple into Brynjolf’s. Avelyn noticed that his hands were much more calloused than she would have expected, even though he probably wasn’t old enough to warrant their condition. ‘Can you tell me how to open the chest now?’ the girl said, trying to whisper but still speaking at about the same level. Brynjolf’s eyes widened for a second as he quickly turned and gave a look at Avelyn, to which she simply responded by crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. _Very smooth,_ her expression seemed to say. ‘Hi,’ Avelyn simply said, mustering a slight smile, to which the girl responded in kind (albeit with a much more believable grin.)

‘Helgi? Get back inside, now! What did I say about talking to strangers?’ A woman shouted from a doorway in the direction the girl had been running in. Brynjolf seized the opportunity to be rid of this sudden dilemma, saying: ‘I’ll tell you later, little lass-now run home before your mother comes for me instead of you.’ When Helgi tried to protest, he simply put a finger to his lips and pointed in the direction of the woman. Grimacing, she turned away and ran off, only to be confronted by what seemed to be her mother in the distance. Although she was further away, Avelyn could still make out their conversation clearly:

‘What did I tell you about that man Helgi? We don’t want his kind around here. I don’t want to see you talking to him or that new apprentice he fished out of the river or whatnot of his again, do you hear me?’

‘But mother, Mister Brynjolf is really nice! He promised he’d let me go fishing with him in-’

‘Are you out of your mind, child? Do you really believe everything a man of that sort says? I’m warning you, stay away from that side of town altogether. I won’t have my daughter turning into a little thief before my very eyes.’

‘But Agni lives there!’

‘Well, you can tell Agni that if she wants to play with you and Virkmund, she better come over to this side of Morthal. Now get inside, and not another word about that Mister Brynjolf or you’ll have no dessert!’

The door slammed shut to Helgi’s pleading tone, muffling the noise. Avelyn grimaced and ran to catch up with Brynjolf, who had continued walking forwards after Helgi had left. He turned and having seen her expression, seemed to blush slightly, chuckling as they went. ‘What can I say? I make a great impression on the little ones, don’t I, ay lass?’

‘I may not remember much, but I’m pretty sure that the definition of people being ‘kind’ to others did not mean that they wanted nothing to do with the person, Brynjolf,’ she said dryly, looking back at the house where Helgi had gone into. ‘Ah, Laelette,’ Brynjolf recalled. ‘She does have a rather _eloquent_ way of putting things, doesn’t she…wait. How did you know?’

‘How did I know what?’

‘That what I said to you earlier was a straight-faced lie? I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m essentially a con artist over here…’ 

‘What? I heard it from her.’ This time it was Brynjolf’s turn to look confused. ‘Laelette. When Helgi ran back, I overheard their conversation…sorry, am I not meant to do that?’

‘Far from it. At least those elf ears are good for something rather than drawing attention…your hearing seems to be as good as an Altmer’s, and that’s a very useful thing to have these days.’ He stopped, right before the town gates, and turned to face Avelyn, looking her up and down and then raising a rather audacious grin as he said, 

‘You know, I think we’ll make a fine thief out of you yet.’ 

‘Of what, apples?’ she responded, letting out a small laugh. For some reason, that little girl seemed to have raised her spirits just a little bit, and she finally found the capacity to laugh again. It was a good feeling. Brynjolf chuckled too as she added, ‘I doubt you could earn any money off of stealing and selling apples, if that’s what you meant by your ‘business’ earlier.’

‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong lass,’ Brynjolf replied. ‘You see, wealth is my business. You sure you don’t want a taste?’ Smiling, he began to turn back the way they came and casually tossed the apple over his shoulder as he went, landing smartly in the palm of Avelyn’s outstretched hand. Cautiously, she took a bite from the centre. 

It was surprisingly delicious, and she was hungry. But in her opinion, it was almost a little too sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did they have mirrors in those days? Probably not. Am I still going to use them anyways and pretend it’s lore-friendly? Hell yes. Sorry if I ruined your immersion (?) XD  
> \---  
> Also how on earth do I write I don’t know I don’t know.  
> \---  
> Anyone got the little Easter Egg with the chapter title and Morthal ;))) huehue  
> \---  
> Please note: my GCSE’s are the next two months. This was already infrequent but please excuse the delay. I just want to get to the other two peeps but I don’t wanna rush the storyline, so sorry XD Anyways as always any constructive criticism is appreciated (or nice things :3) I see you Bryn lovers out there btw ~LS


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